


One Hell of a Lover

by lysanatt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Comeplay, M/M, Romance, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going to a company karaoke party doesn't end up the way Sam thought it would. Having hot sex with one's boss in the basement of a club usually doesn't lead to anything good. There are exceptions, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Hell of a Lover

**Author's Note:**

> For salt_burn_porn and for wendy's prompt "karaoke". Inspired by this [vid](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH026hjRPVA) \- credit to Monday7112 for sharing this for mankind so important event. Title from the obvious source.

**One Hell of a Lover**

**1\. Tension**

The music is loud and Sam can't stop himself from following the rhythm, tapping his foot as he stares at the man on the stage. Sam isn't surprised. Lucifer can sing, and he can _move_. God, can he move! 

If Lucifer tilts his hips like that one more time, Sam swears that he's going to run on stage to rip the pants off the man. And the t-shirt. And everything else that prevents Sam from having naked sex with his annoyingly tempting boss. On the spot. Because Sam is utterly, deeply in lust with his arrogant, tough-as-nails, and occasionally very kind employer. Oh, Sam has it bad, and he knows it. 

Sam drags his fingers through his hair, pulling it in frustration. Of course he's going to do no such thing as attacking someone, not for the lack of want. Having sex in public usually doesn't go well at a company karaoke party, not that Sam has ever tried. Mostly public, naked sex goes with arrests, fines or imprisonment.

In the clear spotlight of the small stage, mike in one hand, Lucifer slides the other hand down his chest, splaying his fingers over his stomach, a bit too far down for it to be decent.

 _But at night I'm one hell of a lover_ , he sings, looking utterly debauched and dirty as he touches himself.

Sam swallows, watching Lucifer from his hiding place behind one of the bar's heavy pillars. Lucifer writhes, dancing seductively, one movement more suggestive than the next. Sam would like to get closer. This... this is going to give him wank material for the next _millennium_. Unless Lucifer has killed him with hotness first. _Oh, fuck it!_ Sam sneaks up to the stage, keeping to the shadows. He doesn't want to be asked to sing; he can't produce as much as a note that doesn't sound as if he's torturing a cat until all its nine lives are squeezed out of it. Because Sam is nothing but a lowly associate, the most recent in a long line of associates, there is no way he can decline if one of the partners asks him. Very few actually make it to partner at Alighieri, Azazel  & Masters and Sam is determined that he is going to be one of them. Even if he has to humiliate himself by singing. 

Then Lucifer gyrates his hips, and Sam's attention drifts below belt once more. He swallows a moan at the thought of how it'd feel, lying under Lucifer, legs spread as hotshot lawyer Lucifer Alighieri fucks him hard and fast, snapping his hips like he does on stage. 

_So why don't you stay for the night? Or maybe a bite?  
I could show you my favorite obsession._

Sam rubs his face. If only... Sam knows the song and the lyrics. It's odd, seeing Mr Alighieri, Detroit's finest lawyer, singing a song which contrasts his apparent heterosexuality so blatantly. Not that Sam is complaining, but the man has a wife — former — and three kids. Oh, well. One can dream, and that's exactly what Sam has done since he set foot in Lucifer's office six months ago for his job interview. Unable to look away, utterly enchanted, hot and horny, Sam licks his lips at the exact moment when Lucifer looks at him. With a curl of his mouth, an arrogant smirk that disappears almost instantly, Lucifer steps forward, his eyes locked with Sam's.

_He's good for relieving my... tension._

Shit. Sam can't tear his eyes away from Lucifer. He's holding his breath, mouth slightly open, as if it could help him breathe. Sam is lost. He has no idea what Lucifer is playing at; teasing, testing... No matter what, Sam can't move, lost in his attraction to Lucifer. Finally he finds some modicum of backbone, forcing himself to step back, disappearing into the darkness along the wall, away from the piercing gaze of Lucifer's sharp eyes. 

For a while Sam is unsure what to do. Stay or go? He has embarrassed himself enough as it is, staring at his boss like an infatuated, love-sick boy. Sam's little secret certainly is no secret any longer. Lucifer is perceptive, and only a blind man would have been able to overlook Sam's obvious admiration. Maybe he should have sung that song that nobody asked him to sing. It'd never been as embarrassing as being caught in the middle of ogling one's boss with the intensity of a thousand suns. 

 

 **2\. One Hell of a Lover**

Sam makes it exactly to the entrance. 

"Going home early?" Lucifer is there already, just in front of the heavy glass doors, leaning against the wall. His hands are behind his back, legs crossed, jeans stretched tightly across his hips and thighs. "Just let me know if you're bored, Winchester."

Oh, crap! He'll be fired by tomorrow, Sam is sure. As much as he's got the hots for his boss, Sam is also a little bit scared of him. There is a reason Lucifer makes an impression at court. Sam can't even manage to appreciate the view, because all he can imagine in front of him this second is a big, flashing sign that spells out _FIRED_ in rainbow-colored letters. 

"I caught you looking at me," Lucifer says and pulls Sam back to this reality. "Not for the first time. I got the notion that you liked the view."

"Erm, I-" Sam looks away, then decides not to be a coward, hiding the attraction for his boss. Too late for that anyway. Lucifer is not stupid. Very far from. "Yes. I did. And I do. Concerns?" Sam raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"Mmm, I like it when you get all cheeky, Sammy. I knew you weren't a subservient little minion. I've watched you, too, you see." Pursing his lips, placing a finger on them, as if he's pondering what to do next, Lucifer steps into Sam's comfort zone. "And what a sight that is."

 _Sammy_? Coming from Lucifer, always polite and correct and distanced Lucifer? Sam blinks, trying to make sense of what is happening. "What-"

Sam is given no respite from Lucifer's inquiries. "Yes or no?" Lucifer asks, stepping closer, so close that their knees collide and Lucifer presses a leg between Sam's, making other things collide too. Sam, in the daze of _too much_ and _want_ , is not in doubt what Lucifer wants. He's hard. 

Gasping, surprised and almost stunned by the way Lucifer is crowding him, Sam can't manage a reply. 

"Yes or no?" Lucifer repeats, this time the words come whispered against Sam's lips, hotly.

Sam's brain short-circuits. "Yes." 

"Downstairs." Lucifer procures a key, dangling it in front of Sam before he leans in to kiss him again. "My club, my basement."

Sam doesn't have the brain cells left to manage even a hint of surprise. Of course _The Cage_ belongs to Lucifer. Like half of Detroit. What's left of it, anyway.

\- 0 -

They make it down the stairs without falling; a remarkable feat in itself, seeing that they never break the kiss that Lucifer initiates.

"Patience," Lucifer says hoarsely, still trying to kiss Sam. The sharp sound of metal against metal announces that Lucifer is perfectly fine, if a little unsteady, when multitasking. 

Sam is pushed into a dimly lit room. It's warm, almost too warm. The light and the low hum of a blower motor announce the presence of a furnace somewhere. Sam steps back, Lucifer's damp lips on his neck as he navigates blindly, brushing against discarded furniture and some high shelves. He stops when the back of his thighs hit something soft. Before he can do or say anything, Lucifer is on his knees in front of him, pulling at Sam's belt. 

"Let me worship you, Sam. I'll do anything for you. I'll never hurt you," Lucifer murmurs, mouthing at Sam's hardness, kneading it gently, maybe waiting for Sam's accept. It comes in the shape of a dark, aroused groan of longing and lust.

"Please, Lucifer!" Sam is dizzy from lust, unable to do anything but to give himself up to the desire he has for this handsome, powerful man kneeling at his feet. Then Lucifer opens Sam's pants, pulling out his cock. 

"Oh," Lucifer says, in deep admiration, before he runs his lips over the head, swirling his tongue around it. 

Sam is unable to stand, and he reaches back, supporting himself against something that might be an old chair. He snaps his hips a bit too fast, thrusting in deep, making Lucifer pull back for a moment, looking up at Sam with ferocious hunger. 

"Fuck my mouth," Lucifer groans, his tongue flicking over Sam's cock once more, teasing it back in between his lips. Sam doesn't have to be told twice. He's so hard that it hurts, and Lucifer's silken tongue eases the pain, lures Sam's desire to flare brightly, pleasure surging through him from the tip of his cock, settling deep in his balls, making him ready to come on the spot. 

"Uh, too much," Sam moans, "too soon." He reaches down, pulling at Lucifer's hair, but Lucifer will have none of it. Expertly, Lucifer cups Sam's balls, strong fingers at the root of his dick, preventing Sam from the indignity of coming prematurely, little more than an inexperienced school boy in Lucifer's hands. Sam's breathing calms as the lust falls to a low simmer before Lucifer let go, continuing sucking Sam off. Sam makes a deep groan, maybe it's a _please_ or _harder_ , not that Sam is in a state to care, not as long as Lucifer's mouth is on him. Only then does Sam feel Lucifer's finger rubbing against his hole, wet from spit. 

Gently Lucifer eases it into Sam's ass and Sam is done with patience. "I want you to fuck me," Sam demands, the words stabbed to death, broken, any possible intelligibility killed by yet another breathless lick over his cock. "I want you in me, fucking me into oblivion," Sam manages in between deep moans.

"Hold that thought," Lucifer growls, pulling out his finger, letting go, too, of Sam's cock. He fumbles in his pocket. A few seconds later Lucifer's fingers are back at Sam's twitching hole, pressing inside. Lucifer's other hand is splayed across Sam's cheek, pulling him close as his cock is swallowed again, to the root. Sam cries out; it's too good. He doesn't care now who hears them. Lucifer's fingers fan out on Sam's ass, caressing it, leaving a silk road of tenderness that contrasts the burn of the rapid stretch. 

"Shit," Sam whines and comes, his orgasm overwhelming him entirely. Sam does what he's told, holding on to Lucifer's command, fucking into his mouth hard, into the sloppy semen-slick warmth. Sam slides his cock in and out until he's done, drowning in the intense pleasure of an expert blowjob. It's not Lucifer's first rodeo, that much Sam lust-muddled mind can deduct.

Lucifer throws his head back, enraptured as semen trickles down his face, from between his lips. He _moans_ , obviously getting off on it. His tongue traces his lips, then his fingers, as he uses them to smear Sam's come over his mouth, licking it eagerly. Lucifer devours all of it, Sam's come, with burning passion, as if the salty fluid is the most precious nectar. 

Sam is spent, but Lucifer is too sexy like that. It's not enough for Sam to watch. Sam grabs a handful of Lucifer's hair, sinking down into the chair, so that he can be face to face with Lucifer. "Fuck, you're so hot," Sam groans and kisses Lucifer roughly, sucking his tongue almost before their lips meet. Pushing Sam's t-shirt up, Lucifer's fingers dance down Sam's chest, circling his nipples as their kiss ignites Sam's burning desire once more. He knows what he wants, consequences be damned. It's too late for regret anyway. 

"Give it to me rough," Sam demands, "Want those nice hips put to work!"

"Yes, tell me, baby," Lucifer growls. "Fuck, it turns me on that you're so bossy. Tell me what you want, and I might give it to you." Without warning, Lucifer yanks Sam's arm behind his back, pushing him forward so that he has no choice but to get on his knees in the old chair. It creaks softly, moaning under Sam's weight. The leather is dry and crinkled, old skin under his one hand. It's crazy hot, the way Lucifer manhandles him. Sam fights a little, for good measure, mostly because he likes Lucifer's strong hold around his wrist. 

"What are you waiting for?" Sam pants desperately. "You're too damned slow! Fuck me!" He stretches his back, pushing back at Lucifer's groin, behaving like a cat in heat, but he's beyond caring, beyond sense. He just wants. He has thought of this for months, fantasized about Lucifer taking him, and now he can't get it soon enough.

There's a gentle probing, the rustle of a condom, fingers sliding into Sam's slick opening, oil and saliva and a quick stretch. Then, without warning, Lucifer drives himself into Sam's body, to the hilt, making it feel as if he's trying to get his entire body inside Sam. 

Sam's cry is a mix of pain and pleasure. His legs are shaking and he digs his nails into the dry leather of the chair's tattered armrests. "So good," Sam gasps. "More!" Lucifer shows no mercy, and it's all Sam needs. He's not falling apart; he can take it. Lucifer's ruthlessness is exactly what he wants. Soothing strokes, gentle hands ease the harsh strokes when Lucifer starts fucking him, belying the apparent cruelty of the brutal fucking. 

Perhaps Lucifer is just as needy; it doesn't take long before the hard thrusts become more erratic, Lucifer's breathing harsh and ragged against Sam's neck. "Damn, so good," Lucifer moans, tilting his hips, hitting Sam's prostate. Sam moans too, not that he's able to come again so soon, but it's pleasure nevertheless. He cries out, little whines and whimpers as Lucifer fucks him good. The sensation of gentle strokes, of sweaty bodies, and of a huge dick in his ass all blend together, making Sam beg. 

"Come," he gasps. "Come, please, want it, want you."

Lucifer is silent as he comes, his orgasm is vocalized only by fast pants against Sam's back, teeth scraping over sensitized skin. For a minute or so, Lucifer holds him, an arm around his waist, another on his chest as he thrusts in and out, slowly, riding the pleasure. Lucifer's breathing calms a bit, culminating in a deep sigh as he pulls out, strangely gentle. "Turn," Lucifer says, not as much a demand as a question. He offers his arm to Sam, moving to the side, leaving room for Sam to cuddle up. 

Breathless, Sam relaxes, almost melting into Lucifer's embrace. Lucifer kisses him softly with so much tenderness it makes Sam's heart flutter. "Mmm," he purrs, allowing himself to indulge in the dream that this is more than a quick, but great fuck, not even a one-night stand. "Feels so good."

Lucifer lets out a chuckle. "Not complaining. You're a very, very attractive young man," Lucifer says, nuzzling Sam's hair. "Can't remember last time I had it this good. Never, now that I think of it." 

Sam feels so content and safe. He can worry about anything that isn't Lucifer later. Right now he needs not to question his decisions, needs not to worry about tomorrow. There is only pleasure and satisfaction. Sam reaches out, pulling Lucifer closer, not that the comfy chair allows them room enough not to be close.

They caress each other for some time, both silent, both content.

Finally Lucifer speaks. "Nice tattoo. What does it mean?" Lucifer traces the outline of the anti-possession mark.

"Prevents evil from entering my body," Sam replies, languidly braiding his fingers with Lucifer's. 

"So either it doesn't work, or I'm not evil," Lucifer chuckles. "I prefer the latter option, though."

"Not entirely evil, no." Sam stretches his neck as Lucifer kisses it, alternating between nibbling and kissing. "A little evil. I'm determined that you're trying to remove my ability to think." Sam sighs contentedly. Lucifer is certainly not evil, not like this. He's a killer in the court, but here, entangled limbs and exchanged caresses? God, he _is_ one hell of a lover, hot and kind and rough and all things good. Sam thinks he'll remember this night for a very long time. It's late, and all lust is burned up before dawn, leaving this oddly gentle and loving man for Sam's heart to shatter on. Oh yeah, melancholy, baby... it hurts even before Lucifer has left him, even before Sam has left his job. As mistakes come, this is both the worst and the best Sam has ever made.

They only separate when the club is closing down. Kisses are exchanged in between hastily applied clothing. 

"Monday, Sam," Lucifer says, kissing him one last time, announcing with gentle caresses the hell that is to come when the reality of associate and employer returns. "I want to see you Monday morning at my office."

Sam shrugs, watching Lucifer leave. Yeah, he knew that it would end like that. Sad-eyed, he grabs his coat and walks out into the cold fall night, heading home to nurse his wounds and his regret. 

 

**3\. Obsession**

Opening his inbox presents an obstacle. Sam isn't ready, not yet, to read a notice or a summoning for a meeting that inevitably will end with him getting fired by Mr Alighieri. Troubled by his own reckless actions yesterday, Sam knows he should have known better than to let his months-long attraction to Lucifer have its way with him. Scrolling down the list of emails, Sam finds it, the dreaded and expected message.

_9:00. Breakfast meeting. My office._

Sam frowns. The mail is from Lucifer's personal account, signed only with an 'L'. The clock on the wall gives him half an hour to prepare. Disheartened, Sam begins to go through his drawers, sorting his personal stuff from that which belongs to the company. He finds a box in the printer room. Carefully he wraps up his six months at Alighieri, Azazel and Masters, together with the shattered remains of his career and the shards of his heart. There is nothing left for him in Detroit now; it feels like his career is going down with the city, all ruins and abandoned streets. 

The clock's hands move too fast and Sam gets up. He buttons his jacket and straightens his tie. At least he will leave with as much dignity as he can possibly muster. He is not going to let Lucifer Alighieri see how much this affects him. It hurts. Having Lucifer for a night, this slight taste of what could have been, had Sam not been who he is... it hurts. No matter that Lucifer had been tender and loving, Sam has to tell himself it doesn't matter. He cannot allow himself to give in to the feelings; it'll only result in more pain. He needs to take control of the situation; he won't let Lucifer treat him like a disposable toy. Since Lucifer is going to fire him, at least Sam can turn the tables. 

He can quit. 

Dismayed with himself, Sam growls a, "Get a grip, dude," at his own image, mirrored in the glass door as he leaves his small office. Determined, he walks down the long corridor, to the far end, the part of it that has plush carpets and mahogany doors. 

Lucifer's secretary nods and smiles as he enters. "Go right in, Mr Winchester," he says, kinder than usual, as if he knows already that Sam's getting fired in five minutes. "Mr Alighieri is expecting you." Even Alastair's usual arrogant attitude seems to have disappeared. It doesn't exactly make Sam feel better.

Sam knocks once, not waiting for Lucifer's reply. He opens the door, only to find Lucifer strangely relaxed, sprawling in his deep office chair, his jacket thrown carelessly over the back of it. Lucifer looks as if he just got out of bed, hair all messy and, Sam has to admit, sexy-cute. Fuck Lucifer and all his pomp and works. Sam forsakes it all! Still he can't stop himself from appreciating what he sees. It's a reminder of how Lucifer looked in the aftermath, all sated and smiling and as content as a cat. Sam's heart makes a fuss, and Sam takes a deep breath. He has to do this. Has to.

Sam doesn't wait for Lucifer to say anything. "I'm sorry about Saturday." Sam decides that since he's out of here in ten minutes, he can manage the embarrassment of admitting his feelings for Lucifer. Not that it matters to Lucifer, Sam is sure, but he needs it to get out. "I don't regret being with you, though." Sam takes his identity card and holds it out for Lucifer to take. "Because I've been in love with you for-" He puts the card down and looks at his watch. "five months, three weeks, five days and one hour. Give or take. And by the way: I quit."

"You are saying no to me, Sam?" Lucifer cocks his head and looks at Sam, more interested now. The smile Lucifer sends him is so sanctimonious that Sam feels an almost irresistible urge to hit him. "I assume we are talking about your position? The vertical one? In which you help me defend the citizens of this fine city?"

Sam blushes. This is not going where he wants it to go. Of course Lucifer has to bring it up, that Sam has behaved unprofessionally, not that Lucifer was any better, but it's his law firm. Of course talk about both of them in a horizontal position doesn't belong in Lucifer's office. "Yes. My vertical position. Thank you for trusting me enough to hire me, now if you'll excuse me, I'll go collect my things from my desk." Sam is angry and sad. All he wants is to get out of here, as fast as possible. He does not want to let Lucifer see his weakness, how much this hurts.

"Wait, Sam." Lucifer gets up, stepping between Sam and the door. It's becoming a habit. "I didn't know."

"Know what?" Blinking, Sam looks at Lucifer. "I don't-"

"This," Lucifer says, pulling Sam into his arms before Sam can react. "That you were serious. That you wanted me."

Baffled, Sam stares at Lucifer, his heart making those odd flip-flops again. "Oh, because asking outright would be difficult? You're a friggin' lawyer! It's your friggin' job to _ask_ questions! What kind of idiot are you?" Sam demands. He's no longer hired, so fuck if he cares what Lucifer thinks about him. As long as those thoughts revolve about horizontal positions, too.

"A besotted one. I-" Lucifer laughs. "The moment you stepped through that door — what was it? Five months, three weeks and one hour ago — I knew." Lucifer seems to regain some of his usual arrogant, cool demeanor. "I knew you were meant for me. Took you long enough to see it. Didn't think I stood a chance."

"You're so... " Sam shakes his head. Before his eyes, this exact instant, Lucifer is becoming a person, a living, breathing human, with emotions, longings, urges. Insecurities. "God, you're clueless." Sam wraps his arms around Lucifer's waist. "Need me to clue you in?"

"In your dreams, Sammy." Lucifer is back to being Lucifer. "So, that's a yes? I don't do dubious consent, you know."

"Hell, yeah," Sam says and pulls Lucifer into a burning kiss.


End file.
